NYCweboy

Worst Song Ever: No Repeat Monday

It's been a while since I hauled out the Worst Song Ever list for any reconsideration, but I thought about it this week. As you may have heard, Starbucks has been rejiggering its music offerings, and part of it, it appears, is narrowing the Starbucks Radio playlist in store.  So instead of dozens of annoying songs... we have dozen. Lather, rinse, repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

(And I'm hoping that somehow this seeps into the consciousness of the folks over at Starbucks Music, because the one about the dirges at Starbucks Radio seemed to get them to update the playlist.)

Which brings me to a question: Can Aretha Franklin ever have a Worst Song?

Don't just knee-jerk a "no", I'm serious. One of our overplayed numbers is hers, and while I could put it on the list, I remember, each time, that it is the Queen of Soul, and even overplayed you have to give it up to her. I mean, clearly her sixties material is essentially untouchable; I was raised on "I Never Loved A Man" and still consider it genius. It's the later stuff, the seventies MOR stuff, or the eighties reinvention stuff... is all of that off limits too?

If you got to the seventies period, when some of the fire was clearly missing, you still have to admit that "Until You Come Back to Me" is brilliant. So, too, is "Daydreaming" - though that's the song in question - and even overplayed, it somewhat holds up.

I suppose the more frustrating thing is that the Starbucks programmers are alternating Aretha's with a dull as dishwater version from Corinne Bailey Rae that adds nothing (kind of like remaking I Will Survive... why?), and doesn't showcase Rae as well as other numbers (and really, does anyone expect Rae to record again any time soon?).

As for the other annoyances, any seem to come from a collection of remixed jazz classics on the Verve label. The Verve Remixed series is generally quite good, and as someone who likes Nu Jazz, and serious Lounge music, I'd heartily recommend them... usually. But the seventh replay of Nina Simone remixed... and my patience is just at an end.

So... I suppose I'm not going to nominate a particular song.  But all suggestions welcome - especially, this round, those songs you encounter in the mall, the grocery store, the coffee shop, where it's beyond your control. And... remember the Ground Rules.

Gone Fishin'...

As previously announced, the NYC Weboy will be on a hiatus from blogging here for the rest of August. Please scroll down, as it's likely that J in Baltimore and RedStar may fill in the gaps with musings, links and photos of their own. You may also find me blogging some critical things over at newcritics. I will not be checking this blog on any kind of a regular basis, but I can be reached via e-mail (nycweboy at nycweboy dot com)... and I do welcome correspondence. I will resume blogging the Tuesday after Labor Day. Yes, that means I will not blog about the Democratic Convention... but just assume I liked Hillary's speech, that the VP selection is not my favorite choice, and I wasn't all that impressed with Obama's speech.

Have a great summer. Enjoy.

Worst Song Notes: Today, Tom Sawyer Gets High On You

Apparently, the Dirges of Starbucks gets people's blood racing: we're getting new visitors, and the old friends are stepping up with some new suggestions.  Sadly, they don't make the cut... so I thought I'd get out the old guidelines and explain...

• kd lang, The Joker and Steve Miller, The Joker. I'm not a huge fan of The Steve Miller Band, one of those seventies album rock things that just never fit into my Motown/Disco/Pure Pop songbook.   Time, though, has brought me round full circle, and while I still don't love a lot of Miller's work, I've come to appreciate this easygoing paean to the free spirit.  Part of what got me there was lang's Drag album, which featured her cover of The Joker, which softened the instrumentation and played up the sly sexiness of the lyrics.  And me, I play my music in the sun.  What's not to love?
• Rush, Tom Sawyer.  RedStar, J in Baltimore, and I have a mutual friend who's a rabid Rush fan... and on Scott's behalf, I must say "cease and desist" with the Tom Sawyer talk.  Yes, Rush is an album-rock-era staple that should never have been part of the Junior High Dance, and Geddy Lee is a unique voice, to say the least... but even I have to admit that during Tom Sawyer's initial run up the Hot 100 (1981, I'd remind you - hardly a banner year for the pop single), it was not the most objectionable thing there; indeed, Rush was (and is) a tight, talented band, and their off the beaten path approach to music and lyrics is a welcome in between to the highly formulaic (Styx) and the genuinely weird (Traffic).

And now for one that does make the cut:

• Calexico and Charlotte Gainsbourg, Just Like A Woman. Daniel, our newcomer, offered this disaster in his comment, an item from the I'm Not There soundtrack (he didn't know who was responsible.  That's the kind of important research we can do here at NYCweboy). I may love I'm Not There, and the music in the film, but it's just like Starbucks to pick the slowest, dirgiest item on the compilation and put it in heavy rotation (and they have, natch). So okay, I didn't realize Neko Case was singing in a major key. I've still got some ability to separate the wheat form the chaff, and whatever icy brilliance there is to Dylan's original, it's lost in Gainsbourg's whispery, miserable reading. Good call!  And keep 'em coming!

And RedStar and J, you know I love you... we just disagree. :)

Worst Song Ever: The Dirges At Starbucks Radio

Perhaps it's appropriate on Day 1 of a 7 day Starbucks streak, to start here: you may get annoyed when you stop in a Starbucks and have to be subjected to "a little bit of poetry, courtesy of Sarah MacLachlan", but we have to hear it all day. Or at least, all shift.

I want to be fair up front - Starbucks radio, and the "Starbucks sound" is full of lively, and inventive choices, and exposes people to lesser known artists they might not otherwise hear (or see) - the corporate embrace of old jazz, seventies rock, and new soul, are all admirable.  But roll them together and you get - Josh Groban. Or Feist.

So, in tribute to the horrors that we get while working, here are some Starbucks artists and tunes I could do without. Remember, there are guidelines.  And remember, it's my Worst Song Ever list; if you have control issues, start your own.

• Feist, 1234 and Feist, So Sorry. The former is the more ubiquitous - it's the song that actually got released as a single, but Starbucks is pushing the whole album, and frequently drops in multiple listenings of Candian singer Leslie Feist to push The Reminder, her second album. I will just say a little of Feist's breathy, high pitched singing goes a long way, much like Laurie Anderson, without nearly the adventurous, arty approach.  Indeed, Feist strikes me as art music for people who don't like to think deeply about art - pretentious, overblown stuff that gets an "emperor's new clothes" patina of seriousness that's not really earned.  And all I think is, when it comes on in the store is... "make it stop.  Please, God, make it stop."
• Neko Case, I Wish I Was The Moon. This is a case of right person, wrong song; Case is an interesting New Alt Country singer with a rich alto voice, and much of the best of her current album showcases it in interesting, moody mid to uptempo tracks; the downside is a series of minor key dirges, like this one, which don't necessarily show her off well.  Nor do they make one hopeful for Alt Country, a genre I for one would love to see grow its audience.
• A Fine Fenzy, Near To You and A Fine Frenzy, Almost Lover. Allison Sudol is one of this year's surprise success stories - successful at South By Southwest this past March, she released her debut this past fall, and went on tour... opening for Rufus Wainwright, surely the King of depressives, these days.  Still, Wainwright is his own unique, amazing creation (his inspired decision to recreate Judy Garland's live concerts at Carnegie Hall and the Hollywood Bowl were as brave and crazy as probably intended), Sudol, performing under the name A Fine Frenzy seems more like just another Sad Girl At The Piano. Which is fine... but the field's getting a bit crowded these days and it's hard to see - especially with the Miserabilism in these songs - just what she brings that isn't done dozens of times, and occasionally better, elsewhere.
• Gillian Welch, I Wanna Sing In a Rock And Roll Band. Welch, like case, comes from the New Alt Country scene, and has plenty of fine material to showcase a rich, raw voice (such as her contributions to the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack, which paired her with Allison Krauss and Emmylou Harris... and speaking of Krauss, she's well represented at Starbucks these days in collaboration with Robert Plant, which is a revelatory combination for both of them).  But what could be a charming, amusing paean to country's rock connection is draggy and slow.  I know they're trying to resist the commercialism of mainstream Nashville, but must Alt Country be such work? Can't they just lighten - or at least brighten - up?
• Neil Young, After The Gold Rush. I could pick almost anything, but this chestnut pretty much showcases Young at his highest pitched and whiniest.  I have yet to find a Neil Young fan among Starbucks baristas... so why the mix is weighted so heavily towards Young - and not even, say, during his CSNY days, which would at least make him part of the problem, not the whole of it - remains a mystery. I know people who hide tapes, bypass the soundsystem... anything, just to avoid having to play Young (this leads, sadly, to overemphasis on Frank Sinatra... which is a debate for another day).

Anyway, I have to go... working at 5:15 tomorrow morning.  Your feedback always welcome.

Tomorrow We'll Discover What Our God In Heaven Has In Store

No... I haven't found religion.  Not any more than usual.

Well, just the religion of show people.

Yes, One Day More of my vacation... and then back to the grind.  Today involves a bit of housekeeping (if you look to the right in a little while, you will probably see some changes), but not much else.  I kind of like my little break. 

Last night was spent with RedStar and her MAS - which is truer than one might think; perhaps only one of us could be construed as not part of her worshipful fan base, and even he (K's husband) understands the Power of Red.  I'll have more thoughts on that, and on RedStar, when I write tomorrow.

Oh, well I do have some new nominees for Worst Song Ever... how about I leave you with those (that's a good way to restart things, since this is one of my most sought out posts on search engines.  And for those of you new to the WSE process, the rules - guidelines, really - are here).  Without further ado:

• Plain White T's - Hey There Delilah - Who knew anyone could out-whine John Mayer? (Now might also be a good time to point out the Colbie Caillat and "Bubbly" come pretty close to Worst Ever - It's a female "My Body Is A Wonderland" - but gosh darn it, the girl is too sweet to hate.) As for Delilah, this near perfectly pathetic ballad makes me want to reach through the radio, slap the singer, and scratch the record.  And if Delilah had any sense, God knows I hope she moved on.
• Air Supply - Every Woman in The World - Yes, I too have tried to back the Air Supply Revival.  Yes, we all agree "I'm All Out Of Love" is an underrated gem.  However, it is worth remembering that most of the Air Supply catalog isn't just cringe-inducing, it's the far side of unlistenable.
• Michael Jackson featuring Siedah Garrett - I Just Can't Stop Loving You - RedStar led off her Christmas coverage with a thoughtful inquiry into the best of Michael Jackson, and we all agree, there remains a lot of worthwhile material in his catalog.  But that got me thinking of this horrendous bit of treacle, which launched "Bad"- and not in a good way - conjured up all sorts of unpleasant discussions of just who Michael couldn't stop lovin', and may have single handedly killed pop radio after the Golden Age of Eighties Pop. Yes, I blame it for everything.

Anyway, that's just a taste of things to come.  Happy New Year.  Tomorrow is only a day away.

I'm Starting with the Man in the Mirror

In keeping with Weboy's preferred use of song lyrics as post titles...  I'm hinting at some New Year's resolution-appropriate self-reflection here, but really I've got nothing of the sort to offer (in part because my Google reader keeps crashing every time I try to catch up on 900+ blog posts).

We're in the lull between Christmas and New Year's...unsurprisingly, my brain is a bit of a mush and I've got a 1000 things and nothing to say at once.  I took back-to-back yoga (gentle) and N.I.A. classes tonight.  Never done that before, and there were moments when I didn't think I'd get through either.  I'm trying to pack the physical activity in before the next debaucherous weekend begins on Friday, and am treating the 72 hours b/w the end of Christmas and the beginning of four days in New York as a detox of sorts.  I just got caught in the rain for the second time in four days, my car will be officially snowed in for two weeks tomorrow, and there's virtually nothing on t.v.  I even fell asleep before midnight last night, practically unheard of (though I did wake up at 4:30 a.m. worrying about product returns for an hour until I heard the first subway train outside my window and drifted off back to sleep).  Seriously, this is what I've got to share with y'all.  Maybe I should have thought twice before agreeing to post for Weboy during this lull!!

I did spend almost three hours in my pajamas updating my iTunes and making new playlists before loading my snazzy new Nano.  Ooooohhhh, shiny.  While downloading more easy listening faves like Christopher Cross's Ride Like the Wind and Billy Preston & Syreeta's With You I'm Born Again, I came across an iMix (??) called something like Songs We're Embarrassed to Admit We Like.  And I thought to myself, this is a list we haven't made.  Sure, we've all got our opinions on the best Michael Jackson hit - I say Smooth Criminal, others nominate Man in the Mirror - and Weboy's been tallying our votes for awhile on the Worst Song Ever.  But have we really come clean on the songs we're most embarrassed to have come up in our iPod shuffle?

May I sheepishly reveal a random sample of my iTunes guilty pleasures (there's SOOOOO many I didn't feel I could really generate a Top 5 of almost 2k songs):

1) Woman in Love, Guilty, & The Main Event/Fight - all Barbra Streisand

2) Nights are Forever Without You & We'll Never Have to Say Goodbye Again - Dan England/John Ford Coley

3) If You're Not the One - Daniel Beddingfield

4) Mockingbird & Haven't Got Time for the Pain - Carly Simon

5) Where is the Love - Roberta Flack

Lest you believe I am only chagrined by my 70s or singer-songwriter proclivities, I also have "I Think I'm in Love" by Jessica Simpson, "Lucky" by Britney Spears (and some video footage of my friend K and I singing it in Tanzania, oy), and "Careless Whisper" by Wham.  Aigh.

Mama Dramas wishes us all "self acceptance" in 2008.    I guess that means I shouldn't lower my voice when singing Carly's Coming Around Again as I pass by the bus stop.  What songs are you secretly blaring??  May we all be loud and proud in 2008!!!

Cross-posted at The Redstar Perspective.

Worst Song Ever: Longing For Shelter, From All That We See

It's been so long since I wrote a Worst Song Ever post... you'd think I forgot all about it.  I think maybe I've just been doing a better job of only listening to the good stuff - Thanks, iPod! - but a few trips to the store and the fast foodorium in the past week was reminder enough that they're still out there (and many of them, still, come from the eighties).  Herewith, some additions to the list; remember, your nominations are always welcome. Just follow these simple ground rules. Now for my latest picks:

• Bob Seger, We've Got Tonight (Also, Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton, We've Got Tonight).  I heard Seger's version at the convenience mart, but all that did was remind me of the awful cover that followed from Rogers and Easton.  This paean to the late-seventies one night stand - "fuck it, let's just have sex" - was just the kind of negative reinforcement needed to turn one off from casual sex forever (especially if the best a Sheena Easton could do was someone like Kenny Rogers).  And Seger's version is just depressing - why bother having a one night stand that's supposed to be fun and free if you sound lonely and depressed?
• Sergio Mendes, Never Gonna Let You Go (Joe Pizzulo and Leza Miller, vocals). Mendes has a long and impressive career bringing the Brazilian sound to international ears, but this unforgivable whiner isn't an example of that.  One of those songs that tries so hard to evoke serious romantic passion that you just know the whole thing is a lie - the sort of thing Mr. "We've Got Tonight" whispered into his honey's ear before getting his coat. Backed by an instrumental arrangement that makes Kenny G look subtle, wrecked by overwrought singing (I know nothing of Joe Pizzulo except the havos he wreaked on my middle school ears), this one should be put on a rocket and sent to the moon, if only to confuse the alien probes.
• Barbra Streisand, Woman in Love . Okay, this does not, despite appearances, break rule #5 - I do not hate all Barbra Streisand.  I don't even hate all of Guilty, the album that spawned some of her most overplayed contemporary hits. In fact, my gay license can be revoked if I'm not sufficiently Streisand reverent (There's a list; you can guess who's on it).  So let's be fair: Streisand is a phenomenon with a remarkable career, particularly as a vocalist on the American Pop Songbook (and as a screen comedienne). Her forays into more contemporary material are a mixed bag - go listen to her brilliant (even now) version of Stoney End for instance to hear her do it right - and she wasn't entirely a good fit with the Gibbs when she sat down to do Guilty with them. But those problems that are more Gibb generic (the wailing key they put her in, the tinny synth sound) are not the biggest problems with this dirge-y ballad that makes being in love sound like a trip to the dentist - that would be the overwrought lyrics and Streisand's heavy-handed delivery of them. There, I said it.

Quit Playing Games With... er, My Son...

Just to keep it short and sweet tonight - in an otherwise rather snoozy issue of Vanity Fair, the bombshell revelations appear to be in the profile of Lou Pearlman, also known as the "By Band Impresario" of the nineties.  Pealman founded, roughly in order: Backstreet Boys, N*Sync, LFO, and the group that came out of the first Making The Band... as well as a bunch of others. But that was only part of what is detailed as amazing life of con jobs and Ponzi schemes - Pearlman's money came from Trans Con Airways, a charter jet outfit that turned out to be little more than photos and paper claims.  But of course Bryan Burroughs doesn't just revel in the financial chicanery, he's got assistants and former band members to say that Pearlman... liked 'em young:

Neither Nick Carter [17 at the time] nor his divorced parents, Robert and Jane Carter, will address what, if anything, happened. But at least two other mothers of Pearlman band members assert Jane termed Pearlman a "sexual predator." Phoenix Stone says he discussed the matter with both Nick and his mother. "With Nick, I got to tell you, this was not something Nick was comfortable talking about," says Stone. "What happened? Well, I just think that he finally, you know, Lou was definitely inappropriate with him, and he just felt that he didn't want anything to do with that anymore. There was a big blowup at that point. From what Jane says, yes, there was a big blowup and they confronted him."

And this:

 

Living at Pearlman's home, Steve Mooney believed he saw firsthand the price many young men were paying. Pearlman's bedroom lay behind a pair of double doors, and when they were closed, Mooney knew not to intrude. More than once, he says, he encountered young male singers slipping out of those doors late at night, tucking in their shirts, a sheepish look on their faces. "There was one guy in every band—one sacrifice—one guy in every band who takes it for Lou," says Mooney, echoing a sentiment I heard from several people. "That's just the way it was."

Aside from what this will add to the slash fiction of boy band fantasies, it's hard to call any of this surprising.  With Burroughs observing that most of the former band members refuse to suggest that they themselves were subjected to harassment, it's likely this will remain the stuff of legend and lore, rather than a chance to reframe people's understanding of sexual harassment. And yet again, we are reminded why all this stuff about not trusting men who build careers around boys has some, er, weight: after the 5th or 6th boy band, shouldn't we all have said something?

Still, I can't end on too serious a note... not while contemplating what this could mean about Justin Timberlake. Or Kevin Richardson. Or Aaron Carter... so many to choose from. A reminder, yet again, that con artists always fail when they get greedy. Ain't it the truth... eh, Lou?

Function Hall Anthems I Hate

In yet another swipe from RedStar, I have to add to her list of songs played at Weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, etc that are simply played out to ever loving death.  I went to an etc. tonight, and we were all wincing to the "wedding dj" fare.  Truly embarrassing. 

And anyway, it's been a while since I added anything to the Worst Song Ever.  Here goes, in really no particular order (all songs actually played):

1. Celebration - Kool and the Gang
2. Le Freak - Chic
3. The Twist - Chubby Checker*
4. The Macarena
5. The Electric Slide
6. Mony Mony - Tommy James and The Shondells
7. Sea of Love - The Honeydrippers
8. Holiday - Madonna
9. You Should Be Dancing - The Bee Gees
10. (and just for Betty) Shame - Evelyn "Champagne" King

* To be fair, The Twist is not a bad song.  But playing it in this context doesn't count.

The guiding thread here is that it's really well past time for the wedding market to update the playlists a bit - for Christ's sake, this material (almost all of it) is close to 30 years old.  It's not like wedding djs were playing "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" and "Que Sera Sera" back in the eighties.  No, they were playing Celebration, Le Freak, etc.  Can we all just move on?

(PS, Betty - I did manage to tell the Evelyn Champagne King/Shame/The Song That Never Ends story while it was playing.  Tee hee.)  :)

Hit Me Like A Bomb (Baby Come And Get It On)

Finally, time for the Worst Song Ever (Sorry, Kate). :)

First, a reminder about the Ground Rules, because we will be applying them today, fairly rigorously.

Second, let's go through some nominees that don't make the cut:

1. The Police, Roxanne (and Ewan MacGregor and Jacek Koman feat. Jose Feliciano, El Tango de Roxanne) - Certainly overplayed, and songs about hookers are definitely to be looked at with an unforgiving eye.  But while I rarely accept pseudo-reggae, "Roxanne" virtually invented the category (or more accurately, The Police, on Outlandos D'Amour).  Moreover, it's depiction of prostitution as seedy and borne of economic necessity as oppposed to actual desire ("Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight/walk the streets for money, you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right") seems fresh even now.  Finally, the song provides the single best number in Moulin Rouge, nearly my favorite film of all time, in El Tango de Roxanne, where its anguished cries and reimagination - given that tango originated in the brothels of Buenos Aires - are nothing short of brilliant.  Therefore, we haven't met Guideline 6.
2. Def Leppard, Pour Some Sugar On Me - Leigh has a very thorough listing of wedding/reception hall songs that she hates.  And let's stipulate, no one but a stripper should really be dancing to this number.  But it's my Worst Song List (Guideline 11), and "Pour Some Sugar On Me" comes from my magical summer of 1988, when (to me) pop music of the eighties reached its apotheosis (I take this stuff very, very seriously).  In June, Pour Some Sugar on Me sat at #2, behind Rick Astley's "Together Forever" and ahead of Pebbles' "Mercedes Boy," and this was literally true - you heard these three endlessly on the radio.  And I loved them all.  And I loved that radio featured disco, R&B and rock tracks next to each other.  Ah...Good Times. After that it's grunge and Nirvana and Pearl Jam and everything went to hell.
3. Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, December 1963 (Oh What A Night) - Leigh violates guideline 4, so it's an instant disqualification... but Valli is a showbiz legend for a reason, and "Oh What a Night" is one of the rare bright spots of pop music in 1975 (I was there), and it's subsequent remix in the late eighties/early nineties was for the boys my age part of what made the seventies revival possible - it wasn't all bad in the Brown Decade.  Overplayed?  It can be; but it always come back to me, unexpectedly, and I find myself singing along.
4. Lionel Richie, Hello - Seems like a gimme, right?  Andrew Sullivan nominated this one - and even though, technically, he's not playing, I saw it and cringed.  But when I thought about it, I realized I hate all Lionel Richie.  So technically, it falls under Guidelines 2 and 5.
5. 4 Non-Blondes, What's Up - Which is "What's Goin On," except that refers to the Marvin Gaye song.  I always (always thought that there was a version done by a male group; but no, that's really Linda Perry.  As such, because I've enjoyed both the original and the remix, once again, Guideline 11 kicks in.

Now, a word or two about cover versions - remakes of songs by other artists.  I didn't make a Guideline to cover this, but since we refer to "specific songs," and these are specifc versions of songs, I think we can let them in.  However, please note the various stipulations attached to each version mentioned below.  These will matter as we go forward:

1. Michael Damian, Rock On - I had to scour the memory banks for this one.  Damian, who played the bad rock star on The Young and The Restless, rerecorded this seventies gem (by David Essex) and Damian's presence on the number one soap pushed it to the top of the charts (#1 the week of June 3 1989 - a/k/a the week when girls get out of school and can catch up on their favorite soaps).  Yes, we once thought this brush-haired brunette was sexy.  I know.  It's really, really embarrassing. (And Leigh, in addition to the Toni Basil version that J in Baltimore recalls... Def Leppard just rerecorded it, too.)
2. Madonna, American Pie - This stipulation is the biggest, because Don McLean's song is one of the great all time pop singles - and it took me a long time to admit that.  But Madge's version truncates the verses, her singing is atrocious, and it's a cheap soundtrack ploy to sell The Next Best Thing (which was also awful).  Indeed, it's the fact that Madonna had the nerve to eviscerate such a classic that makes this a Worst Song Ever.
3. Diana Ross, I Will Survive - Yes, the Gloria Gaynor version is overplayed, the great-grandmother of overplayed disco songs that long ago wore out their welcome - I am required, by law, to leave any dance floor where it is played.  But overplayed is the only part of the guidelines that Gaynor's version meets - the lyrics were, at the time, sharp and empowered, and she sang them with a nerve that made them... well, anthemic.  By contrast, Miss Ross, who knew perfectly well that the song was legendary, has no such excuse.  And the woman who embodies high-pitched, breathy delivery best suited for "my man done walked out and now I'm bereft" material has absolutely no business trying to throw a bum out; especially in a blatant, crass appeal to the gay disco market. 

And now for the easy calls:

1. Ray Parker Jr., Ghostbusters - Never mind that he's homophobic ("I hear he likes the girls"), never mind that the film from which it comes is also something I loathe; no just call it one of the worst movie anthems ever and be done with it.  J in Baltimore references a lawsuit in his nomination - and indeed Chrysalis Records sued Arista, claiming copyright infringement that "Ghostbusters" too closely resembled Huey Lewis and The News "I Want a New Drug" - Parker eventually paid a settlement to Lewis out of court.  The lawsuit, however, was part of an ongoing rivalry between Clive Davis, and his former employer, Columbia, which distributed Chrysalis, and had a history of harassing suits against Arista artists and generally campaigning to make Davis' life difficult. (Nominations for Huey Lewis gladly accepted.)
2. Toto, Rosanna - but just so we're clear, "Africa" remains one of my favorite singles of all time.  But Toto, studio made and manufactured, was mostly responsible for much of what made the eighties suck, and Rosanna was the chief offender ("All I wanna do in the middle of the evening is hold her tight"... evening??? What, dude, is midnight past your bedtime?). Again, it's all just too embarrassing to have to admit to the eighties these days.
3. Earth Wind and Fire, That's The Way of The World - A/K/A "Hearts Afire"...And again, EWF is resonsible for one of the great dance songs of all time - "September," the song that no one ever hates to dance to.  (My old - as in former - roommate Scott made a good case for the French Horn in seventies disco).  So how can a band that made the best dance song also be credited with the dreckiest, most incoherent ballad ever?  I don't know... man, I don't know, but when the early eighties sucked, they really sucked and this illiterate gem ("Hearts of fire/create love desire/take you high and higher...") needs a lot of weed to get over... a lot of weed, man.
4. Manheim Steamroller, Deck the Halls - Christmastime is Here... and if you don't want to ruin it, why not stick with a Charlie Brown Christmas instead of this synthetic dreck.  Of course, you already know how I feel about the whole yuletide season, but not about this eighties-era monstrosity, which, if you work in retail, seems to make the "every hour on the hour" Christmas mix.   We will not be free until January 3rd.
5. Eric Clapton, Wonderful Tonight - Another one from Leigh's Function Hall Anthems, even just the initial chords of this nightmare scream "whiny."  It's too slow, too maudlin, "and then she asks me, 'do you feel alright?'" Well, no, he doesn't, honey, he's doing enough blow to fuel an entire Bolivian Army.  And you, you long suffering doormat, are not so wonderful. 

That's it for now... As always leave future nominees in the comments section (or any other comments welcome).  You can also e-mail suggestions.  Previous entries for Worst Song Ever are here.